12 Days of Snowfall
by Faith Rivens
Summary: Christmas comes to Storybrooke, but not everyone sees the world decked in holly and bows. As Emma and Mary Margaret struggle to find happiness amidst the chill of lost loves, Henry brews a most excellent plan to remind them that love is best found within.
1. Chapter 1

12 Days of Snowfall

**AN:** First I want to say to my faithful readers of Destinies Entwined that I have not given up on that story. The next chapter is nearly done, but caught up in the Christmas spirit, I felt like writing such a tale for my new favourite tv show: Once Upon a Time. At best, this story will be four or five chapters long and with any luck will be done in time for Christmas. Contains spoilers up to and including **1x07 **so take care as you proceed.

I hope you enjoy this wintery tale.

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><p>12 Days of Snowfall<p>

Mary Margaret Blanchard took a deep sip of the hot cocoa before her, too late realizing her mistake of impetuosity. She gasped inwardly as the hot liquid burned the tip of her tongue, leaving it raw and numb. Even the brief taste of cinnamon could not ease the pain of impatience.

"Too hot?"

She nodded as Emma walked into the room wearing her usual skin-tight jeans and even tighter white camisole. You would hardly know it was winter outside by the way Emma dressed. Mary Margaret daren't say a word against it, though—Emma had lost far too much to suffer through the pettiness.

The sorrow was all too evident in the young woman's eyes, though a smile concealed the pain in her expression. For too long, she had pretended to feel nothing for the sheriff. Too late, she had accepted that part of herself. Their feelings declared he had died seconds later in her arms. A true tragedy—like the kind you read in books—it had affected Mary Margaret deeply. She had wept the night through after learning the news, though the truth of her sorrow lay deeper than the loss of Graham.

Nearly a month after the incident, Emma had hastily put up a façade of acceptance; Mary Margaret knew better. Her own heart was still heavy, though it was a different name pounding in her own heart. _David Nolan._

She shook it from her mind. She had promised herself that she was over him, that whatever she had believed to feel for him had been a mere consequence of having saved him—the nurse/patient syndrome.

Ever since Graham, she'd realized how selfish she'd been, imagining that her life was falling because a married man had chosen to remain faithful to his wife instead of choosing her. She'd hated herself for sleeping with Doctor Whale too, and had quickly put that terror to an end. Emma's tragedy had given her a second glimpse of what life was, and she was no longer willing to pretend that life was all sunshine and rainbows and prancing, white ponies.

"It's cooler now."

She'd hardly noticed Emma pouring herself a cup of cocoa, or taking the seat opposite her own. Now that she did, she made her best effort to ignore the deep bags under Emma's eyes—more proof of sleepless nights—and the extra sticks of cinnamon layering the cup above a cloud of whipped cream—unmistakeable comfort food.

"What are you up to today?"

Mary Margaret paused to take another sip of her cocoa, glad that it had cooled, but sorely disappointed that the taste was marred by the rawness of her tongue. Placing it aside, she forced a reply from her lips. "Not much, really." It was Saturday, so her usual duties could not act as an easy lie. "I was hoping to get some Christmas shopping done."

Emma's eyebrow rose suspiciously, as if she could sense the falsehood in the air. "I hope you don't intend to buy me anything."

"I actually have a lot of little ones to get to first, but you do fall somewhere on my list." A slice of truth.

It was not that she wanted to lie to Emma, or that she believed the woman was too weak to know that she spent Saturday afternoons volunteering at the animal shelter, a job that had once belonged to a most beloved sheriff. She just didn't want to draw attention to the fact.

Emma shook her. "I don't want anything, honestly." This was a lie, too. Mary Margaret knew well enough that there was indeed something Emma would give the world for. "Besides, if you buy something for me, it means I'm contractually obligated to but you something too."

"Gift giving isn't a contract two people enter into, Emma," Mary Margaret chided gently. "I give expecting nothing in return."

"That might be your life motto, but it isn't mine. Everything comes with a price." Emma's voice cracked as she finished her sentence, her eyes fading to a place far away. The price for opening her heart had been devastating.

Biting her lip, Mary Margaret desperately tried to change the subject. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm in the mood for an omelet. Can I tempt you for a pepper, cheese one?"

"No, thanks," Emma responded vacantly, standing quickly. "I'm on duty." Her fingers fell gently across the Sheriff badge pinned to her belt. As if everything else wasn't enough, each day was a reminder of the terrible loss she had suffered. Still, Mary Margaret knew that the job was one of the things keeping her strong. She had fought tooth and nail for the right and, with the backing of most of the town, had succeeded in gaining the prestigious title, beating the Mayor in their small war. Yes; the job and Henry were the only things keeping Emma breathing. "See you later. Good luck with everything."

Her last few words, brief, trite gestures of well-being, held a resonance of absent-mindedness. She was falling away to the past, the tracks of her invisible tears shining brightly for Mary Margaret to see. And as she watched Emma disappear, her own tear trickled down her cheek.

1 2 D A Y S O F S N O W F A L L

Mary Margaret made three mistakes when she left her house.

1st: she left with a cluttered mind

2nd: she forgot her scarf at home

3rd: she took a left turn instead of a right at the third stop sign

The third was no doubt a consequence of the first two, and was far worse too, though this point could be called into contention when the snow began to fall on her tear-stained faced. But we're jumping ahead.

She did not realize her mistake until it was too late, and far before that, her mind was too full of thoughts of Emma and Graham and past lives and animal shelters and Christmas and a certain married someone to recognize her fatal error.

A giving person by nature—Emma hadn't been wrong in that—she knew that the most important thing to do this year was to find a way to make Emma forget. She wished she could make herself forget too, but if repression was the best she could muster, she would take it so long as Emma could find closure in her own heart.

"Mary Margaret?"

The voice that called out to her was cringingly familiar and finally awakened her to her wrongly chosen direction. Her head instinctively wanted to raise, to greet those hazel eyes, but she kept it down and quickened her pace, hopeful he would let her walk.

"Mary Margaret!" More persistent than before, footsteps followed this louder cry. "Mary Margaret!"

Unable to ignore the pleas, she glanced to her left, her body trembling in the cold, though the cold was not the reason for her sudden shivering. "David."

Desperate to keep her voice nonchalant, she could hear the shaking in her voice as she uttered the single word, her eyes drinking in the sight of the once coma patient in a navy blue jacket, and matching argyle hat, scarf and mitts. His face was red as if he'd been standing outside for a long time, a shovel clenched in his mitted hand.

"I've been hoping to see you," he breathed, a cloud of breath flying from his lips.

"Have you?" She frowned darkly, glancing around. "Where's Kathryn?"

David's beaming expression slipped slightly. "She's inside making hot cocoa."

"Right." For a second, she wondered if he too required an extra dose of cinnamon on top to make the drink complete. She daren't ask. "Well, it was nice seeing you." Prepared to move on, she hesitated as his voice rang out again.

"Mary Margaret, wait!" Rushing forward, his hands fell upon the fence, as if to take them over with a single bound. "Can we…can we talk?"

"About what, David?" She feigned innocence as she turned to stare back at him. His eyes were glittering with something akin to regret and apology. She did not want to face any more apologies. She didn't want him to be sorry for choosing to stay faithful. She didn't want to hate him for having led her on. She didn't want to hate herself for having wanted him to leave. She didn't want any of it. Yet, it was all there.

"I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am. I feel terrible for what I did, and I know it'll be hard to forgive me, but if you can…I would love to be friends. You mean so much to me." The last part came out rushed, trying to beat her to the interjection he knew would come.

She paused before replying to his foray of words. Each sentence rang out in her mind, clawing her mind like sharp talons of an eagle. "Do you think you mean that much to me?" Her voice was coarse and cold. "Do you think I've fallen apart because you chose your wife?"

"I…" His eyes were wide with surprise at her rebuttal. He had not expected such hostility. "No…I just thought…if you felt like…no, feel like I…"

"David?"

Another voice rang out, one sharply female and concerned.

Glancing past David, Mary Margaret took in the sight of Kathryn Nolan, her heart tightening in such aching pain. A kind woman; a gentle woman; how could she wish her harm?

"Mary Margaret?" Having just seen the other woman standing beyond her fence, Kathryn's eyebrows raised in suspicion. "It's been a long time. How are you?"

"Fine, thank you. I was just passing by. Your decorations are beautiful." She had not really taken the time to appreciate the lights coursing through the thick branches of their evergreen, or the Santa Claus atop the roof, but the tiny gesture managed to bring a genuine smile to Kathryn's face.

"David's been working hard. It's been a while since this place has been decorated…" A glean of sorrow entered her pale eyes as she remembered years believing that David would never return.

The pain in Mary Margaret's chest grew. "Well, I'll be off then."

"Mary Margaret."

"Bye."

She hurried off then, not bothering to pay attention to David's last attempt to gain her pardon. This could not happen again. She would leave the Nolans to their lives and get on with her own.

Above her, the clouds thickened and darkened with the weight of snow. Too heavy, they released the white flakes to the earth, allowing the thick fluffs to descend with great strength and agility.

Alone on her way, Mary Margaret's tears froze to her face, crystalizing in the chill of the rather gloomy winter day.

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> So, what do you think? Reviews are most welcomed. I consider them Christmas gifts this time of year, and I know they will inspire joy, happiness and creativity in my life. Next chapter: Snow and Charming prepare to celebrate their first Christmas together.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** And here is Chapter 2. I should probably warn now that the plot being devised will not solve any of the mysteries the show has laid down for us, but rather move to develop characters as I see possible within the context of Christmas. If time permits at a later date, I will write another story concerning the development of the show. For now, this is just a little something to celebrate the winter festivities.

Thanks to Katie870 for being my first reviewer. And thank you to **miley-avril** who corrected a most fatal error on my part: the name of David's wife in Storybrooke. It's Kathryn not Elizabeth. Don't know why I did that :P

And thanks to BogeymanUndertheBed, Songbird18, xsmatthijsse, Aragornthia, Heartie, Lucky Thirteen-Cameron, potter'sanatomy, TLoveZ, and TwilightCharmedFaie for adding it to favourite or alert :) Your support and interest is much appreciate :)

In this chapter, Henry takes note of sorrows and Snow and Charming prepare to share their first Christmas together…fair warning: nothing is as it seems.

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><p>Chapter Two:<p>

There was no snow on the ground. The air held a slight chill, but it was hardly enough to inspire knowledge that Christmas was only days away. Far warmer than normal, Snow could only sit and stare at the clear sky, wishing the snow would grace the land.

Since she was a little girl, she'd always loved to see the white flakes descending from the sky, coming to welcome the winter, coming to welcome her birthday.

Tears pricked the corner of her eyes, but she rubbed them away fiercely. After everything, her strength was her best ally. A moment of weakness was not something she could afford.

Shifting uncomfortably in her spot, she glanced back at the tiny house waiting behind her. Eight men, shorter than she, were returning from another day of mining, their clothes and faces smudged with grime and coal. Still they whistled a tuneless song, their voices floating towards her, a song she could recognize. In her head, the lyrics flowed with morose meaning.

_Another year come and gone_

_Our hearts are heavy with life and loss_

_In the distance, a new beginning waits_

_Behind, the path we've taken remains _

_Reminding._

The tears, more persistent than before, dripped steadily along the side of her cheek. She did not fight them this time. Glancing back into the forest, her heart beat in mourning rhythm. _Father. _

She'd caused more harm than good this year. She's lost more than she could imagine too, so much more. Her heart was broken, and it would never again be whole.

1 2 D A Y S O F S N O W F A L L

Henry sat on his bed, delicately fingering the spine of his fairy tale book. _A month_.

In the silence of the house, he could hear the soft sound of weeping. She cried every night now. At first, the sound had surprised him, but after a week, he'd learned to ignore it and recognize it for what it really was: tears for herself.

No one else knew, but he was certain that she had been the cause of the sheriff's death. He'd sent him searching for his heart and a few hours later he had died in his mom's arms. They said he'd had a heart attack, but he knew better. His heart had been turned to dust. The queen had won again, had exacted her vengeance. And it was his fault.

As the thought slipped through his mind, he tossed the book to the side. Him and his stupid tales. He'd brought Emma here, had believed that she could break the spell. Archie, Mary Margaret…he'd told all of them the truth, but none had believed him. And then the sheriff had come, wanting to know, wanting to believe and he'd led him to his demise. If he had taken his time to warn him about the mayor, maybe Graham would still be alive. If he had not been so excited by someone finally believing him wholly and completely, maybe none of this would have ever happened.

The weeping had stopped now, replaced by the unmistakeable noise of footsteps moving through the hall. A fist rapped against his door.

"Henry?" Her voice held no remnants of her self-pity crying.

"Yes," he replied.

The door opened. Her face was not red. Crying without tears; it was another sign of the true reason behind the weeping. His adopted mother, he could only imagine her as the true witch she was. "I was hoping we could go out for supper."

He remained silent, clenching his fists to his side. In the past month, he'd become ever more withdrawn from her, putting up a cold front. He'd disliked her before, but now his emotions had grown to loathing. "I don't feel like going out."

Her dark eyes narrowed angrily, the frustration growing in the lines of her face. "I'm tired of you sulking, Henry. We've all been struggling with the loss of Graham…" her voice faded slightly as her composure faltered, but she quickly tossed any remorse aside. "But I'm your mother, Henry, and we need to work through it together."

Her words flew like knives at him, harsh and cold and demanding. The lack of love in her tone was staggering—not that he was surprised. "Don't pretend like you care. I know the truth," he sputtered in retort. It was the wrong thing to say, but he was fed up too and threw cautions to the wind without respite.

Her eyes flashed dangerously with untamed ire. "What truth?" Her tongue flickered savagely as she pronounced truth, leaving the 'th' sounding more like an double 's'. "I don't understand why you hate me so. What I have done to you, Henry, to make you think I'm a monster?"

She was setting a trap for him, baiting him to snap back with some reply that would lead to someone's demise. It was not only his wellbeing in danger now, but his friends too, and Emma. "Nothing.

Moving to his bed, she knelt before him, clutching his knees, her red nails digging into his skin. She didn't seem to notice, and he fought the urge to wince. "Then let's make things better, Henry." There was no sincerity in her voice. "Forget about that other woman. We only need each other."

Bringing Emma into the mix was an unwise mood that swiftly propelled Henry back into resistance. "Her name is Emma, and I can't just forget her. She needs me."

A scowl returned to Regina's face as she bent over her son. "I need you, Henry. You're my son, and I'm your mother."

"You're not my real mother." The words were out before he could stop himself, and in doing so, bounded across some dividing line.

With rage in her eyes, the mayor leaned back and swept her hand across Henry's cheek.

The pain didn't register at first as the sound of the slap resounded in the silence of the room. The tears wanted to fall but he held them back as his cheek began to tremble.

"Don't you dare," she seethed, standing up. "She abandoned you. She's nothing. For everything I've done for you, I do not deserve this. You are my life and I will not let you treat me this way."

As he sat in stunned silence, she grabbed his book, pulling it roughly into her arms. "You're grounded. I don't know for how long. Think about your life, Henry. Think about everything I've done, and when you're done thinking, I'll be waiting for your apology."

Her words done, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her, leaving Henry alone. A mark of red was growing across his cheek as the sting of her strike began to register. The tears pooled without restraint in his eyes, and slowly slipped down his cheek. In silence, he sat as darkness fell. In silence, he cried for the injustices.

1 2 D A Y S O F S N O W F A L L

Snow walked absent-mindedly through the bare trees, fooling herself that the air around her was cooling, pretending that the smell of snow was forceful in the blowing wind. The truth was this: the air was too warm for snow, and the smell invading her senses was only the intoxicating scent of the evergreens. None of it was enough.

Five days until Christmas; five days until her birthday. She felt no joy as the thought came.

Stopping by a tree, she stared as a bluebird flew by, whistling a lovely tune. She whistled back, a habit she'd enjoyed as a child. It called back in joyful harmony, and a small smile fell across her lips. It was no large joy, but it was more than she'd had before.

When the bird was gone from sight, she continued again on her path to nowhere. As she continued, it dawned on her that she was headed for the place that had changed so much in her life. There lay a little pool, beneath a steady tree. Here, her life had been spared. Here, she had given a second chance. And then…and then she'd fallen to thievery. And where had that path led?

To him. And then to them.

She settled herself among the dead leaves, her resting back against the sturdy trunk. It had been a while since she'd thought of the prince. James was his name—Charming, she called him. Hazel-eyed, he'd affected her in a way most unexpected. He was not like many of the princes she'd known in her life, a fact that intrigued her. _If you need anything…_

"You'll know where to find me," she whispered to the wind, remembering with clear vividness, their parting words. Glancing around the woods, she considered what she was going to say. She felt ridiculous even knowing that she longed to say it. "If you're anywhere near, I'd love a little snow."

The sound of footsteps echoed not seconds after the words slipped through her lips.

Her eyes opened wide, disbelieving. "Impossible."

Not willing to take chances, she slipped into the underbrush, taking precaution. The queen was still looking for her, the price still high for her head…and her heart.

Two horses came into view, both chestnut, and neither belonging to Charming. The two men that sat atop the steeds were dressed in the black uniform of the queen's guard.

Glad for the cover of the brush, she crouched lower into the ground, waiting for them to pass by. Waiting for the sound of the hoof beats to vanish into silence, she moved out of the branches. Gazing around warily, she began the trek back to the concealed cottage in the woods.

She walked with quick resolve, wanting to return before the night fell over the forest. Passing into a clearing, she was nearly blinded by her own hurriedness to the sight of a man crouched over a river.

"Impossible."

The voice caught her unawares, and she stumbled across the fallen twigs, tumbling to the ground with a resounding thud.

A hand reached out to help her up before she could even gain sense of her precarious position. Glancing up to the face attached, her eyes widened in welcome surprise, a smile quickly crossing her lips. "Charming."

1 2 D A Y S O F S N O W F A L L

Emma sat alone in the apartment she shared with Mary Margaret. She took a sip of her cocoa, particularly glad that she'd thought to slip in some rum. It added flavour to the drink in a way she hadn't thought possible, and was a great help in easing the cloudiness of her mind.

She should not be falling apart as she was. She was stronger than that. Years she had spent, learning to build the fortress around her heart. Attachments were destructions waiting to happen. She'd learned that well, and yet she'd still let him in. And then she'd lost him.

Life was a menace that way.

When she took her next sip, she could taste amidst the mingling flavours of cinnamon, chocolate and rum. She hadn't even realized that she was crying.

Sighing heavily, she rushed to the washroom, grabbing Kleenex from a horribly pink box. Wiping at her eyes and cheeks, she stared at the reflection in the mirror, horrified by the red-rimmed face staring back.

Dashing back into the kitchen, she reached for her coat. Coming back here had been a terrible idea. She needed fresh air and something to keep her mind occupied until she could be certain that Mary Margaret was black.

Wrenching open the door with sudden vigour, she halted as she found a small figure standing at the door, fist raised.

"Henry?"

When had she last seen the boy? She could hardly remember. The funeral? More than three weeks at least. They'd both decided on the distance with Regina on the warpath, though the length of their hiatus had been undecided. Then, she noticed the red mark etched into his face. "What happened?"

His bottom lip quivered, but his eyes remained dry. "Nothing."

"Henry?"

He shook his head forcefully. "I don't want to talk about it. I just wanted to see you." With that, he burrowed his head into her stomach, his hands wrapping around her torso.

She enveloped him without hesitation, pulling him in tight. He needed her, much like she needed him. "It's okay, kid. I got you."

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><p><strong>AN: <strong>I think this story will definitely be done in time for Christmas, though it might be longer than I expected. Don't you love how when you write stories—for those of you do—how your characters do things you never expect them to? Regina going all slap-happy on Henry is one such case. Now, my entire story has changed. I promise the next chapter won't be so dark.

Reviews are always welcome and beloved and inspiring. Thanks for the feedback so far. Hope you're all enjoy reading it as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

Love,

Faith


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** And here is Chapter 3. Sorry for the longer wait. I just finished writing my last exam Tuesday and I've been working the past two days, so there hasn't been much time to take a breather. But I'm back with another chapter. I'm hesitant to call it the penultimate one, though I'm not quite sure I'll have time to write two more. Anyways, it shall be seen, and there will be at least one more chapter.

Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed and added me on favourites and alerts. It's much appreciated, and is always inspiring. Hope this chapter lives up to your expectations.

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><p>Chapter Three:<p>

Mary Margaret made it a point to take the long way around, eradicating any chance encounters with a certain married couple. The snow was still falling without cease around her, but in the moment, she could thoroughly enjoy it for what it was—a sign of innocence and rebirth of a kind. Free of worry, she let herself whistle a merry tune, as her booted feet sank into the white ground.

Reaching the apartment, a smile beamed on her face. Perhaps it was overkill, but if she was to inspire any holiday cheer in Emma's life, she would have to put on the pretense of being content and joyful and all that stuff, too. They would fight this together, starting today. Life was waiting for them. Whatever cruel hand fate had dealt them so far, she would leave it all behind. A new year, a fresh start. They both deserved that.

Pushing open the door, she could hear the faint sound of Zooey Deschanel singing _Santa Claus is Coming to Town_ echoing from the small TV she owned. Wandering into the even smaller living room, her eyes widened in surprise.

Emma was sitting on the couch, watching the television set with raised eyebrows while Henry lay across her lap, his eyes closed. Hearing Mary Margaret's approach, Emma tilted her head in her direction, her finger falling on her lip. _He's sleeping_, she mouthed.

"I can see that," Mary Margaret replied in a low whisper. "I feel like I should ask."

Emma pointed firmly at his head. Treading forward carefully, she glanced down, able to see the faint imprint of a hand, red upon his cheek. Horrified by its meaning, she glanced up to Emma's eyes. "Regina?"

She nodded. "Yep."

"Why?"

Emma shrugged. "He wouldn't tell me." She glanced back down at the sleeping boy, her face pulled back in a frown. "He didn't say anything, really; just sat down with me and put on _ELF_ and ten minutes later he was asleep. I didn't know what to do." Her eyes were imploring as they glanced back up.

"She'll come looking for him, won't she? She'll come here first. And when she finds him…" She dreaded to finish the sentence. With everything else that had happened, this could end up being the final straw. She'd hit Henry for some reason. Whatever he'd done or said, must have flicked some switch. As much as she was aware of the lack of love between the mother and son, she'd never seen Regina harm Henry physically. And even if he had said something terrible, nothing could condone this abuse.

Emma was grimacing outwardly. "I'd rather not think about it. I want to bring him home, but I don't know if I trust him in that bitch's house. Sorry," she added as an afterthought as Mary Margaret cringed noticeably.

"It's okay." Mary Margaret was carefully pondering the situation, considering all possibilities. "I don't think Madame Mayor would be too happy to see you arrive in Henry in tow. Maybe if I brought him back, she'd feel less threatened."

"I don't care how she feels," Emma retorted briskly, her voice rising suddenly. She flinched and glanced quickly down at Henry. He was still sleeping, impervious to their discussion.

Mary Margaret bit her lip. Emma was being defensive, not that she could blame her. Unavailable as she'd been during the majority of Henry's life, it was hard to ignore the obvious care and love she possessed for the boy. "I don't care about her, either. I'm just trying to devise a plan that will work better in Henry's favour. Chances are that if she realized he ran to you, he'll be in even more trouble than before. I can say he found me in the stores or something."

"Take me out of the equation." Emma nodded hopefully. "It's a good idea."

Sighing inwardly, Mary Margaret glanced out the window. It was already so much darker than when she'd arrived. "I should go now, before it gets too late and she has a chance to worry. Maybe she doesn't even know yet."

"There's not much she doesn't know. That woman has the whole town on strings. Like some sort of puppet master."

She didn't care to admit it, but Mary Margaret wholeheartedly agreed. Sometimes, in the darkest crevices of her mind she would wonder how the town would be without that horrible woman leading them through their lives. Sometimes, she couldn't help but feel that their fates rested in her hands.

1 2 D A Y S O F S N O W F A L L

"If you're more than a hallucination or illusion of my mind, than this day has completely surpassed my idea of strange."

Staring at her, he could hardly believe fate's idea of a joke. Of all the people to meet, on this day of all days, he would never have thought that she would find him.

"Welcome to strangeness, then," she replied, taking his extended hand and pulling herself up. Brushing the snow off her clothes, she laughed heartily, the sound melodic in all senses of the word. "You know, I was just thinking about you."

"Were you?" He sounded excited. He shouldn't have sounded so excited, even if he too spent most days wondering about her. "I mean…it's strange to think that you were thinking about me and then suddenly here I was."

She raised a questioning eyebrow, as if trying to read into the meaning of his words. He wished she wouldn't. "Stranger still to wonder why you're here to begin with, alone, crouching over a pond. Are you lost in the forest, Charming?"

He smiled at the use of his nickname, one she had created. "Not lost, no." He paused, reflecting on the events that had led him here. It all seemed rather ironic and a discussion he'd rather not jump into. "Just stranded."

"Trouble with the Mrs.?" She was laughing at him, but she didn't know the half of it.

"Not married, actually," he revealed generously. "Christmas Day's the date." He wondered why he was telling her all this, especially when her smile faltered slightly. What he would give to let her know that his heart was heavy with the thought too. But he could tell no one that truth, loathed as he was with the thought of giving his heart to a woman he loved not. Even after months of getting to know her, he could not find it within himself to feel anything but friendship for her. She was kind enough to be sure, but he needed more than kindness.

Which made bumping into the maiden named Snow that much more disconcerting.

"Well, happy wishes to you, then. And good luck finding your way home." She stuck out her hand, the smile on her face seeming forced.

He did not take it. "You're going to abandon me to my troubles?"

"Yes." He frowned, while a true smile returned to her face. "Unless you need to find a ring, I can be of no help."

"Then you'll love this."

Her eyes grew wider in shock. "You didn't."

He shook his head, patting his breast pocket. "No. But I have been robbed." Deciding finally to let her know his plight, he began his description of the day's events. "I've been away for a few days, searching for something." He remained vague on that. Truth was, he'd snuck away to see his mother—it was better that it remain secret. "I started back early this morning and only a few hours into my trek, I was attacked by a most peculiar pack of bandits who robbed me of my horse and a satchel of valuables." He paused, watching the amused expression on her face. The glee in her eyes made them sparkle like gems, mesmerizing. They caught him off guard, and for a few seconds, he stared vacantly into their captivating beauty.

"It seems you have no luck in these parts," she commented, blinking quickly, bringing him back to reality.

"So it seems," he agreed, hopeful that she had not caught onto his prolonged regard. "I would not complain, except I have a ways to go and only five days to make the journey. On foot, I'll be lucky to make it back the eve before." He shook his head as he relived the moments, forced to remember that he was stuck in a most troublesome spot. "There were seven of them in all."

"Seven?"

"Yes. Dwarves. Feisty little things. They must be friends of yours." He said it teasingly, but she did not laugh. "Are they friends of yours?"

She hesitated for a few seconds, caught in pensive thought, and then a smile fell upon her lips once more. "Perhaps I can be of help after all."

1 2 D A Y S O F S N O W F A L L

Henry stood at the steps to his own house, flanked by Mary Margaret. She was staring at him expectantly. "Go ahead, Henry. I'm right up here."

He wanted to tell her it didn't matter, that she could line up half of the town, and still he wouldn't be protected. All that would bring was the Mayor's wrath and the demise of half the town. He didn't want any more of that. "Maybe it's best if you go."

"I don't think so," she replied stoutly, her frown deepening. She was concerned, he could tell by the shadows in her eyes. His fear was evident to her, and as she recognized the depth of his discomfort, her own resolve was shaking. He could not have her follow through with that sort of mindset. If she tried to reason with his mother, the consequences could be dire. "Do you want me to knock for you?"

"NO!" he exclaimed. "It's fine. Thank you." Putting on a façade, he _eagerly_ reached for the doorbell, his fingers meeting it while a _smile _lit his features. Inside, turmoil and panic raged with a vengeance. The mark on his face stung as he waited, imagining that another slap would come for him when she learned of his disobedience.

The door opened a moment later. The slowness of her reaction, made it evident to Henry that she was not aware of his disappearance. _How typical._

Her arrival confirmed his suspicions, as confusion lit the lines of her expression, though anger was swift to follow with dawning realization. "Henry, what have you…oh! Ms. Blanchard?" Her tone descended to resentment as she took note of the school teacher standing, hands clasped, in the background. "I do hope you can offer me some explanation, Henry." Her attention returned to her boy, her eyes dark with accusation.

"It's my fault, Madam Mayor," Mary Margaret blurted out before Henry could utter even a syllable. "My car stopped a few streets down and as I was walking by, Henry noticed my distraught expression. He came down to see if he could offer me any help. When I heard that he'd been grounded, I decided that I should return him and make sure he wasn't punished for trying to be a good citizen."

It was a terrible lie. Henry cringed as she finished, knowing the mayor would never believe it. Surely Mary Margaret was aware of that. Yet she stood there, determined that it be accepted as truth.

"Is that so?" Regina was not willing to believe. "Well, thank you, Mary Margaret. I'm so sorry to hear about your car. Should I call you a tow?" Her voice seeped with condescending cruelty.

Mary Margaret hardly flinched. "That won't be necessary."

"I thought no." Her façade of a smile vanished. "Come in, Henry."

Henry glanced back at Mary Margaret. "Thanks, Ms. Blanchard." Trying to sound content, he ended up failing miserably.

"Bye, Henry." He walked past his mother, dreading what would happen next. And then, Mary Margaret's voice broke through again. "I was actually hoping to talk to you, Madam Mayor."

Turning in surprise, Henry could sense Regina's own ire as Mary Margaret held back the closing door. Looking fierce in the falling snow, Henry could almost envision her as she had been in her life among the fables.

"Henry, go upstairs."

He had wanted to stay, to listen to their words. "But…"

"Now. That's an order." With no more words, Regina slammed the door. Fine, he would go upstairs. The window would prove an ally once again.

1 2 D A Y S O F S N O W F A L L

She had not intended to talk to the mayor. Her original plan had focused on getting Henry home safely. Yet, standing in the shadow of that haughty woman, she'd felt the sudden urge to voice her contempt and confront Regina's questionable behaviour. Ready to speak, she was abruptly cut off by the mayor before a word could be uttered.

"I must say, Ms. Blanchard, that I really don't appreciate you lying to me so candidly." Cold as the night wind, Regina's voice lashed at her, trying—most futilely—to inflict her with guilt. "Henry must learn to take responsibility for his actions."

"Is that why you slapped him?" Mary Margaret's voice was just as chilled. On the brink of frustration, she could not care that the woman before her could easily destroy what was left of her life.

"Who are you to question me? To judge me?" Regina's rage was sharp. "I do not abuse my son, if that is your accusation. Not that you would take my side in the matter. Tell me, did he go to that woman?"

"I told you what happened," Mary Margaret's fortitude was breaking as she was met by the fiery anger of the mayor. With every passing second, she was growing ever more disappointed with her choice to remain behind and enter into argument.

"Please. Do you think I'm stupid?" Like a whip, her voice cracked down in the night, louder than necessary. Taking a deep breath, she sighed heavily. "She's playing a dangerous game, Ms. Blanchard. You should warn her not to take it lightly. Henry is my son, not hers. She gave up that right a long time ago."

She only wants a chance to get to know him. She doesn't want to take him away from you. You forget that Henry went looking for her and not vice versa."

"It's something I can't forget."

Mary Margaret paused at the sound of defeat in Regina's voice. She sounded as if she genuinely cared; she sounded human. "Give them a chance to get to know each other."

"Like you wanted a chance to get to know, David?"

Mary Margaret's cheeks burned red as the mayor brought in that sore point in her present. "That's not…"

"The same?" Regina laughed with clear tones of disdain. "Oh, please. The way you threw yourself at that married man was pathetic. Like a lost puppy. It's a blessing that he remembered in time to prevent anything disastrous." She paused, waiting for a retort. There was none as Mary Margaret focused all her energy on holding back the tears. "You pretend to be so righteous, but you're no better than the rest of us. It's no wonder you and Ms. Swan have bonded so well. Both of you are intent on destroying lives for your own purposes."

Her words resounded painfully in Mary Margaret's mind. _Liar. Adulteress. Slut. _"How can you be so cruel?" She whispered finally, her eyes brimming.

"I think, dear, you should be less concerned about Henry's life with me, and more concerned about what destructive path you're travelling down." Leaving it at that, the mayor turned on her hell, fleeing into the house.

Mary Margaret could only stare as the falling snow suddenly turned to rain.

1 2 D A Y S O F S N O W F A L L

Henry quickly shut the window as his mother came into the house, slamming the door with echoing force. As her feet marched up the stairs, he sat in expected wait of her approach. She did not come to him, though, her footsteps storming past his room without stopping.

Sighing in relief, he jumped back to stare at the window, dismally staring out as raindrops crashed against his window.

Through the blurring of the fallen droplets, he could see Mary Margaret standing frozen in the downpour, her face downcast.

For a minute he watched her, and then she was walking—no, running—down their steps, her form disappearing into the surrounding darkness of the street.

Sadness filtered in to Henry's heart as he turned back to face his room. It was time for some holiday intervention.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Okay, so there really wasn't so much Charming/Snow action. I wasn't sure if I should add the rest in this chapter, or let it sit for the next. You can obvious see what my ultimate decision was. In any case, I promise that the next chapter will be mostly devoted to Charming/Snow as well as some David/Mary Margaret and Henry/Emma/Mary Margaretness too. I'm sorry if the story seems depressing. Happiness will come to the front in the next few…PROMISE!

And remember, reviews make the world go round :)

Love,

Faith


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** And here is Chapter 4. EPIC FAIL!

I'm so sorry. A very happy belated New Year to all of you. I wanted this to be done a long time ago, but the holidays were far too hectic and I let it slip from my grasp. I still intend to finish it, so don't lose heart. I hope this lives up to the wait.

Thanks again for all the amazing reviews and for all your supported. It's greatly appreciated. And continuing…

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><p>Chapter Four:<p>

The dwarves did not take well to the appearance of Prince Charming. In fact, upon seeing him walking alongside Snow, they initiated a charge that—had Snow not chosen to intervene—would have resulted in a brawl with Charming horribly outmatched. As it was, seeing the fire in their eyes, Snow took the precaution of placing herself in front of the prince to protect him from her irrationally emotional friends.

"It's okay," she insisted as they came to a jarring halt, fists raised in readiness. "He's a friend."

"He's a prince," Grumpy growled at the front of the pack.

"He's a blue blood," Doc agreed. Usually the more intellectual of the group, he too seemed rather enraged to see the man. "He's no good."

"No good," the six others chanted in unison, refusing to stand down.

Behind her, Charming squirmed uneasily. "If anyone here should feel injustice…"

Snow rounded on him warningly, her eyes flaring. "Don't. Make. It. Worse." Satisfied by his silence, she turned back to face the others. "Why do you say that?"

All eyes flew to Doc who sighed heavily. "His father's a tyrant. And he's no better. They live by their rules and leave us to rot on the side. We've suffered enough under their reign to have gained the right to fight back."

Snow said nothing, considering Doc's words. Joining this band of workers/thieves, she'd only known that they held some injury with the crown that ruled over them. The depth of their injustice still remained to be seen. Glancing warily at Charming, she gathered all she knew about him. It wasn't much—he was engaged, he was a prince, he saved her once, but there was something else, a feeling that he was good, that he was better. To say her friends were wrong, though. She looked back to the seven gathered.

"I understand, but he's my guest tonight, so don't hurt him. You don't have to talk to him, you don't have to like him. Just leave him be, and I'll also have to ask that you give him back his horse and satchel."

A chorus of protestations rang from their mouths, but they held no real power. They had taken her in, and they knew her well enough, and liked her well enough, to stand against her in any capacity.

"Fine, then," Doc said finally. "We'll leave him be. Let me fetch his things and he can be on his way."

"I think it's rather late to be sending him off on his own. He'll stay the night," Snow said gently, though even as she stated it, the dwarves knew that she was asking their permission in a most subtle way.

Doc stared hard at Charming, his eyebrows bent forward over his forehead as he pondered her request. "There'll be room with the horses."

"Thank you." Snow's gratitude was sincere as the seven walked off then, grumbling amongst themselves.

Charming was silent behind her, but as they moved out of earshot, he stepped forward to face her. "I should be the one thanking you. They looked ready to take off my head."

"I wouldn't have put it past them," Snow agreed, though her voice had suddenly lost the luster of before.

Charming noticed it and frowned. "What is it?"

Snow hesitated to reply. With everything that had happened to her, she'd forgotten what it meant to sit above others, ruling lands and peoples with only a wave of a hand. Her father had been a just man, a trait he'd taught her—among others. She should never forget that not all were the same. "You'll stay the night and in the morning you'll be off. That's the best I can do right now. And when all this is done, you will have to do two things for me."

"Anything, of course." Charming was eager to abide by her wishes, sensing that he'd caused her some injury—though he was not quite sure how.

Snow's eyes were dark with gravity when she spoke next. "First, you must tell no one this place or that you have seen me here."

"I would never," Charming swore.

She sighed. "And second, you must never try to find me again."

1 2 D A Y S O F S N O W F A L L

Only three days now remained till Christmas. Mary Margaret stood in her apartment window, watching as rain fell steadily across the pane of glass. It no longer looked like the winter season it should. All the despair of the past month seemed aggravated now with this dismal weather disturbing the true nature of the holiday season.

Absent-mindedly she twisted at the ring around her finger, wishing for snow more than anything else. Christmas had always been a special time, but it would be meaningless without the magic of a fresh snowfall. Behind her, Emma was busy rifling through papers, settling some unfinished business. In the background, Christmas tunes played on like soft, bothersome insects that refused to leave them in peace.

_Merry Christmas, darling. We're apart, that's true…_

Of course this song would be playing.

Mary Margaret inclined her head slightly to glance at Emma. She was focused intently on the sheets before her, but in her concentration, Mary Margaret could see the lines of distress breaking through her expression.

Hurrying discreetly to the radio, she changed the channel, allowing the sharp, joyful tunes of _Joy to the World_ to permeate the room. Perhaps too joyful.

She flipped the knob again.

…_still waiting for the snow to fall, it doesn't really feel like Christmas at all…_

Oh, good Lord no.

Once more she tried, but when this resulted in the heartbreaking _The Christmas Shoes_, she quickly turned the contraption off completely.

What was wrong with her? She was a Christmas baby, a winter child. This was her time to flourish, but she could hardly bring herself to embrace the joy and hope of the holidays, not with all the bad of recent days, and all the despair she had a feeling would follow.

"When did the holidays become so depressing?" she mused aloud, turning to face Emma.

She had finally lifted her head from her work, watching Mary Margaret in her attempt to find a proper song with a mixed air of amusement and disappointment. "When were they ever not depressing?" she responded dishearteningly.

Mary Margaret frowned as she took a seat opposite the young woman. They were close in age, but at times she felt that Emma was older than herself, with all her sorrows borrowed deep within her soul, aging in her outside and within. "They're meant to be a time for joy and happiness. Not despair and misery."

"You obviously didn't grow up in foster homes," Emma retorted, suddenly sounding bitter. Her eyes shone with regret. "Sorry. I don't mean to sound so…"

"Hostile?" Mary Margaret suggested.

"Bitchy," Emma returned.

The two women shared a long look, and then laughter filled the room as they allowed themselves to take pleasure in a small moment where their issues seemed far, far away.

All too soon, though, the moment was over.

"I'm thinking of leaving."

The confession, unexpected and sudden, bade Mary Margaret pause before coming up with a reply. "Why?"

Emma's gaze was stern. "Because I can't do this anymore. I thought it would do me good to try to be a part of Henry's life, but I can't…I'm not made for this."

"But Henry…"

"He'll be better off without me. I don't need a kid in my life, not now, not ever. It's too much pain. I can't handle it. Attachment is a cage, and I don't want it to hold me prisoner anymore."

"But he needs you," Mary Margaret insisted, unable to comprehend this sudden defeatist attitude the usually vibrant woman was displaying. "You can't be selfish. Life is about making attachments, and loving people and needing people, and sure losing people and the moments they bring you hurts, but it's a part of life too. You can't escape it. No one can." Her words sounded preachy, and as she spoke them, they awoke thoughts within her own brain. _Talk about needing a good dose of your own medicine_. She sighed, shaking her head. "Believe me, I know."

Emma paused to reflect. "I wasn't made for this, Mary Margaret. I wasn't born to be a mother. I've lived my life on my own. All this love stuff…it's taking a toll on me."

"So let me help you," Mary Margaret offered gently, reaching for Emma's hand and taking it tenderly on her own. "Henry deserves more than what he has. It's not my place to say…but it's the truth. I recognize that now." She paused, pondering her next words. "I know with Graham…"

"I don't…"

"I know," Mary Margaret persisted, her grip tightening. "Just listen. He meant something to you, and it hurts that he's not here anymore. But you can't let that take you over. Henry's important, and you can't just admit defeat now. Some things are just worth fighting for. Some people are worth hurting for."

Emma nodded silently, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "Thank you," she whispered, tightening her own grip on Mary Margaret's hand as if afraid that letting go would mean losing herself to the open sea of sorrow.

Together they sat in union, just sitting, just waiting. For what? Mary Margaret could not say. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw them.

Beyond the window, snow was beginning to fall in slow synchronicity; large, fluffy flakes of new hope. And in her mind, she knew what she had to do next.

1 2 D A Y S O F S N O W F A L L

Snow sat in the little cottage, in the small room the dwarves had willingly given to her for her own purposes. The window to the outside was coated in dust, but even with the small obstacle, she could tell that the sky was devoid of clouds, the velvety night speckled with sparkling stars. There would be no snowfall tonight either.

Lowering her gaze, she could see the prince gently petting his white steed, feeding it oats with his other hand. His lips were moving, though she could not make out what he was saying from such a distance. The only thing she could comprehend was the great ease with which he dealt with the creature before him, as if he'd grown up dealing with them, a fact that had to be fiction.

His head turned suddenly, as if he could sense her eyes regarding him with great observation. She moved away swiftly from the window, hopeful he had not caught a glimpse of her. A moment she let pass before she moved back to her spot.

He had changed positions, sitting on a bale of hay, a book open on his lap. She could not see what it was, and as her curiosity grew, she could no longer fight the need to go investigate.

The dwarves were seated around their dining table when she crept down the stairs, most on the brink of inebriation. They were giggling while Happy sang a rather derogatory tune about a plump maiden and an ugly prince.

Sneaking past them without any difficulty, she emerged into the chill of the moonlit eve, shivering slightly beyond the safety of the firelit cottage.

Charming seemed impervious to her approach, even when she came to stand only a foot from where he sat. Waiting patiently for him to come to the realization, she soon realized it was not to be and finally broke the silence.

"What are you reading?"

Charming's head snapped up, his eyes wide in alarm. The book fell to the grassy floor below, it's mahogany cover turned up. Across the front, emblazoned in ebony script was the title: _Le Morte D'Arthur._

She'd never heard of it before, which was surprising, considering how well-read her father was and how he had passed on such a love for the written word to her. "Is a good one?"

Charming seemed caught in a stunned stupor, one that took him a few more seconds to break out of. "It's an interesting one," he replied, a tiny smile lifting the corners of his lips. "About a great man. And a great king."

"Don't tell me you feel connected to this great king," she scoffed, gingerly picking up the book to leaf through its pages. "That would be all too arrogant of you."

A tiny laugh escaped Charming's lips. "I am certainly no Arthur. As pompous as you may believe me to be…"

"Is what they say true?" she interrupted him quickly.

He stared at her curiously. "Your friends?"

She nodded. "Are you a caring royal? Or a good liar?" Her words and tones were sharp, but she was frustrated with herself, frustrated for thinking allowing her to fall for his charm when he had obviously caused injury to the land. Still…her angered was swayed as she watched him. There was something sincere about him, something that could not be easily faked.

His reply came after a small pause. He seemed hesitant, pensive, as if approaching her question with an air of seriousness. "I'm a good liar." He was not joking, his eyes held no amusement in their gaze, just sheer coolness, and the smallest hint of regret.

"So, you're a tyrant?" She took a step back, her guard raised.

He shook his head, a gentleness returning to his features. "No. I'm just…not exactly what people think I am."

"Meaning what?" she questioned coolly, doubt and confusion running through her as she stared at the ambiguous man before her, unable to discern the truth from the lie.

Charming sighed deeply, and then took a deep breath. "You've shared a secret with me, so let me share one with you." He motioned towards the bale of hay he'd previously occupied. "It might take a while," he added as her eyes watched him suspiciously.

She sat slowly, and watched as he lowered himself to sit together. There was a short pause in which Charming was preparing himself for the next reveal, a secret he would not trust with just anyone. "I'm not a royal," he admitted gently. "I wasn't born to this life like you were."

"What?" Her eyes held curiosity and questions.

A tiny smile, one of sadness and regret, claimed his lips. "I was born to mother and father in a rural part of the kingdom. They were shepherds. That was the life I was born to." He paused, waiting for her to interrupt. She didn't. "A few months ago, not long before our first meeting," his smile grew as he remembered that moment, "I was visited by a man who told me that I had had a twin brother. He'd been killed only a few days before, but all his life, he'd grown, thinking he was a prince. Born to poverty, he'd been given to the king to be his heir, and I'd been left to be nothing more than a shepherd. Not that I'm complaining," he added hastily. "I would give anything to be back on my farm."

Snow was pensive as she listened to Charming's story. She could not doubt his words, not when his voice was pained with honesty. "Why did the king want you?"

"To take my brother's place," Charming replied. There was no real mourning there—he had never known his brother. Even if twins, he had never felt a connection, nor had he felt it severed. "The king needed me to slay a dragon to secure an alliance with King Midas."

Snow nodded. She knew the king in question, had met him on many occasions. The King with the Golden Touch, they called him. "You succeeded?"

"Surprisingly so," Charming mused. "I only ever did it because he'd promised to save our farm. I never realized he would want more."

"Princess Abigail," Snow spoke up, already seeing the pattern. "A union of their heirs would guarantee a union of their kingdoms."

Charming nodded. "This week, I went to visit my mother. I've been forbidden to see her, threatened to destroy the farm and kill my mother should the truth be known, so that the king…my father…might gain the treasures he deserves." There was bitterness in his tone as he continued. "I hold no hostility for the princess. She's kind, but…it matters not."

"It matters to me." Snow reached for his hand, claiming it tenderly in hers. She squeezed it with reassuring sympathy. The man before her seemed even greater than before. To have sacrificed everything for the love of his mother, for duty to a kingdom he had no real attachment to. "I'm so sorry."

His deep eyes met hers, their gazes caught together, neither wanting to turn away first. One hand reached for her cheek, cupping it gently.

She shivered at the feel of his hand against her skin, but did not pull away. Leaning in, she yearned for the distance between them to be gone, so that they might embrace…

The door of the cottage banged open behind them, the sound resounding with a loud crash through the silence.

Torn apart, they turned to look. Seven dwarves stood there, their gazes turned towards the pair seated in the hay.

"Everything okay, Snow?"

"Yes Doc," she replied, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"Do you need some defending?"

Snow shook her head. "I'm fine, Grumpy."

"I'll take this as my leave," Charming said, standing suddenly behind her. He moved to his horse, before Snow could protest and began to lead him into the stable.

All Snow could do was watch.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: <strong>Not sure how I feel about this chapter, but I hope you all enjoyed it. Let me know my clicking the review button and leaving a comment, constructive criticism, suggestion, or question. Anything and everything is welcomed.

Next chapter will see the end of this story. Holiday cheer, new beginnings and farewells wait in the future.

Love,

Faith


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N.** Hello all. Last chapter. Yes, it's true. This story took me far too long, and for that I apologize. Thank you for all the support. It's been most appreciate and it's kept me inspired all this time. My gratitude is full.

I guess there's not much else to say, so without further adieu, here's the last chapter of _12 Days of Snowfall._

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><p>Chapter Five:<p>

She had left with a plan, her resolve stronger than it had ever been before. Determined, assured, and confident, she strode down the street as snow fell around her. There was a deep want in her heart, a deep need to rid herself of one of the many evils plaguing her life. Emma had helped her reach that epiphany.

Yet, a few blocks from her destination, her steps began to slow, her confidence slipping as she slowly realized that fear was billowing in her as a dark cloud of torrential rain.

She should not be doing this. She could only imagine what would imagine when she arrived, what she would say. The words had already been decided, but she could not remember what they were as a sudden panic overtook her mind.

Halting, she shivered. Had it always been this cold? She could not remember feeling the chill when she had first left the apartment. And yet, it must have been.

So, why was she doing this again?

_Because it's almost Christmas. _

Mary Margaret allowed a long sigh to escape her lips. _And because being angry is taking a toll._

They were on the brink of the New Year. Before her lay the best chance to start afresh.

Her feet began to lead her along again, taking her down the streets, guiding her with quick alacrity so that she would not be able to hesitate again before reaching her destination.

Then, it was before her.

Their house stood before her, suddenly looming like a great shadow to claim her self. It was almost so. Treading up the pathway and then the steps, her heart was leaden with the burden of unfulfilled love, prepared to lay itself at the feet of the man who had cast her to the side.

Her finger fell against the doorbell, though it did not push. Running up and down it, she waited for resolve to build before finally doing the deed.

Within the house, she could hear a voice call through, though through the walls it remained incomprehensible.

Only a few seconds passed before the door finally pulled open to reveal a face she had hoped would not be there to greet her.

"Mary Margaret? What a surprise." Kathryn's expression was one of shock, while her eyes held a curiosity that verged on suspicion. "Is there something I can help you with?"

She hesitated again. Why had she not thought that Kathryn would be the one to open the door? How had she looked past the possibility? "I…I'm sorry," she stammered, trying to grab a hold of her mind. "I don't mean to inconvenience you."

"Nonsense," Kathryn replied, her genuine kindness daunting as Mary Margaret recalled the reason for why she was here. "Why don't you come in?"

Mary Margaret shook her head. "I didn't come here to intrude. I was just hoping to talk to David, actually."

"Oh," Kathryn's look of gentleness faded slightly at her husband's name. "Is that so?"

Mary Margaret bit her lip, seeing the lines of worry on Kathryn's face. She was not impervious to the stories Regina had spread, stories indicting the shy teacher with the pursuit of a married man. "I'll be no more than five minutes," she swore.

Still Kathryn hesitated. "He is rather busy at the moment…"

"Then, I'll go," Mary Margaret insisted, stepping back from the door. "I'm sorry for bothering you."

"Who's there, Kathryn?"

The male voice that called from the house, bade Mary Margaret's heart to suddenly race anxiously. He was coming; she could vaguely see his form moving in the darkness behind her, drawing ever nearer.

"Mary Margaret," Kathryn replied shortly, incapable of lying as her husband came to stand behind her.

As his eyes took her in, they widened in gladdened surprise. "Mary Margaret," he repeated. "It's good to see you."

"You too," she replied, her voice low, almost too low to really understand.

"Mary Margaret was hoping to speak with you," Kathryn explained, the smile on her face suddenly looking fake and forced. "I told her you were busy."

He glanced between his wife and the woman standing at the door, his features evidence of the inner turmoil within him. He wanted to do right by his wife, but in his eyes, Mary Margaret could see an urgency to take hold of this opportunity being presented, to finally make amends.

"I can spare ten minutes," he said finally, his gaze resting completely on Kathryn. "If it's alright with you."

"Of course," she said, forcing her smile to extend to her ears. Her eyes held the truth; in them, Mary Margaret could see doubt and resentment and the wish to say no. "Why don't you come in."

Mary Margaret nodded, her heart dropping. She could not say what she had to say in front of Kathryn. Her words were not bound to assuage the worries of her married life. "If you don't…"

"Actually," David interrupted suddenly, his voice proving urgent. He knew why she was here, knew too the danger of having Kathryn listening in on the next conversation, and seemed intent on insuring they were as free to talk as possible. "I know that you're busy preparing for Christmas. And I've cooped in here all day. I feel like a walk. Would that suit you, Mary Margaret?"

She nodded, aware that Kathryn was not as thrilled with this proposition. "I do need your help, though, darling."

David smiled reassuringly. "We'll only be ten minutes. A quick walk around the block. You'll hardly know I'm gone."

"Okay," Kathryn finally relented. She glanced uneasily at Mary Margaret. "Please do be quick," she added before retreating hurriedly into the house, as if afraid that her lingering presence might lead to a more heated discussion.

Watching her fleeing figure, Mary Margaret tried to staunch the growing unease in her chest. Her eyes averted from David, afraid that staring at him her resolve might fade altogether and she too would run from this place, back to the dark crevices of her heart.

1 2 D A Y S O F S N O W F A L L

Emma could not stop herself. With Mary Margaret gone, she'd had no buffer, no one to rant to, no one to slow her steadily growing anger. Stuck in silence with her thoughts alone, she'd let them take the better of her, and was now following on a path of rampage that they had promoted with great ease and enthusiasm.

Getting into her Beetle, she'd driven without halting once. All the lights seemed to be on her side, allowing her to race through the streets, propelling her anger to an even greater height.

Mary Margaret had been right. She had to fight, fight for what she wanted. _Some things are worth fighting for._ If anything was worth fighting for, it was Henry. And, in truth, there was only one person standing in her way.

She screeched the car to a stop before the mayor's house, the sound of her breaks awakening Regina to her arrival before she'd even stepped out the door.

"Miss Swan," Regina warned as she appeared in the doorway, her eyes flashing angrily. "I will ask you to leave now."

"I only just got here," Emma protested as she strode up the path without pause. Her boots sank into the snow with a fury, nothing able to hinder her progress.

Fear glinted in Regina's eyes as she realized the determination lighting Emma's own orbs. Retreating, she tried to close the door, but Emma was too fast and with a sudden leap forward, pressed her boot into place. "Now, that's not very nice."

"I will call the police."

"I am the police," Emma reminded her, amused by the turn of events. Her anger was cooling slightly, not to point where she would want to retreat, but to the point where she knew she would not cause any physical harm to the woman standing in front of her. "Consider this a house call."

"Why?" Regina sputtered.

Emma grinned, recognizing that she was suddenly in control. "Because there are some things we need to discuss, Madam Mayor."

"I don't want you in my house, Miss Swan," Regina hissed fiercely. She was not a woman easily swayed, and as she stood, barricading the door, it became clear that her own forceful nature was building up with a vengeance. "I may not be in control of everything, but I will be in control of that."

Emma laughed reprovingly. "Not in charge of everything? Humility does not suit you."

"Trust me, Miss Swan. If I was in control of everything, you would not be wearing that badge." Regina's tone was clear.

Emma took a brief pause to remember why she was here. _Pick your battles, Emma_. "I'll make this short," she said, removing her foot from the door. "I won't come in, but I would like you to come out so I can speak to you face to face. I'm not going to hurt you."

Regina's face was masked as she came out onto the porch. "I have nothing to fear from you."

"I'm sure you don't," Emma retorted sharply. "But that's not the point…"

"What is the point, Miss Swan?"

Emma took a deep breath. _Keep your head about you_. "Mary Margaret told me about Henry." She paused for a breath. "About what you did."

"Oh, did she?" Regina sneered. "Are you sure you didn't witness it first hand?"

If not for her fear for Henry's well-being, she would have thrown out the truth. As it was, she kept it to herself. "If I had seen it first hand, things would be very different right now."

"I wonder how."

Emma ignored it. "What did he do to deserve it?"

Regina sighed, as if unfazed by Emma's question. "As I told Miss Blanchard, it's really none of your business. He's my son."

"No he's not," Emma hissed.

This shook Regina. "You have no right to him anymore. Is that why you're here?" Her voice was suddenly taunting, her eyes burning with a fury. "You will see yourself sorely disappointed Miss Swan if you even attempt to pursue such a course of action."

"I'm not going to battle you for custody," Emma argued, though she could not know if she would be able to keep such a promise. At least for the present, she was not focused on the larger fight at hand. "But I do want to negotiate time."

"How so?" Regina did not look impressed.

"I want you to allow me some time with Henry. Formally. I don't want to hide behind your back. It's not right to Henry."

"It's not right to me," Regina countered harshly. "I'm the one who suffers."

"I doubt that." Emma ground her teeth to stop herself from saying something worse. "Look, I'm not going anywhere, so we might as well try to get along, or least pretend to get along for Henry. He's a good kid. He deserves to be loved."

Regina swelled a few inches. "Are you insinuating that I don't love my son?"

_Yes. _"No, not in so many words," Emma replied, finding it increasingly difficult to be civil. "But he shouldn't have to sneak off in fear of your wrath."

"My wrath?"

"Yes. Your wrath." There were no better words to define Regina's anger. "So, what do you say? I'm not asking for much, at least an hour a day just to talk to him without having to hide behind your back. I'm not taking him away." _Not yet._ "I just want to start a new." Her façade of civility was beginning to crumble. She was trying so hard for Henry, but there was only so far she would go to try to staunch the disparate feelings between herself and Regina.

Regina's eyes were unreadable as she let the seconds drag on, her unspoken response hanging like a blanket of fog over the two women.

"Are you going to answer me?"

Emma's whole body was trembling now as the wind rushed through her. She could not understand how Regina, dressed in nothing but a skinny sweater could look completely untouched by the frigid cold. _Ice queen for sure_.

"Here's the thing, Miss Swan." The tone with which Regina spoke left Emma no hope. Did she really have little care for Henry and his well-being? It was nothing she could easily deny. "I have no interest in giving you any part in Henry's life. I'll repeat myself again: he is not your son. He is mine, and I will not let you fill his mind with delusions and promises that you won't ever be able to keep. My aim in keeping him from you is all based on his best interest. I don't want him to get hurt. So no, I will not abide by your demands and you will stay well away from my son or I will come after you with everything I have."

"You…" she restrained herself. "Then you should know this, Madame Mayor. I don't intend to leave this town until I have rid it of your tyranny."

Regina frowned. "I'd like to see you try," she hissed and without waiting for a response, turned on her heel and stormed into her house, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Filled with a bitter rage, Emma fled the place, rushing into her car and revving it up without pausing. She shot off down the street, the snow floating up around her whirring tires as she disappeared down the lane.

1 2 D A Y S O F S N O W F A L L

They walked in silence for a few moments as if afraid that whilst still within shouting distance of his house, there was still a chance that Kathryn would hear their words. It was snowing, a slight dusting, one that Mary Margaret embraced as a clear sign that this endeavour had been well taken.

As they turned down another block, she glanced anxiously at David. He was walking rather hurriedly, his hands shoved firmly into his pockets, his head focused frontward solely. Seeing his stance, filled her with sudden anticipation. Why did he look so angered, when he had pursued her this past month with the intent to apologize? Why did he look so stoic when she was still burning with a fierce need?

"David?"

He glanced at her, the sound of his name from her lips prompting him to pause. "Not yet," he whispered urgently and moved forward again with renewed speed.

She followed him warily, matching her pace with his. "Where are we…"

"Just trust me," he insisted again, never once slowing up as he continued down the streets.

_Trust you? _It sounded all too strange to have him ask her to trust him. _Like I trusted you to leave your wife for me? _ Better to leave that questioned unasked and unanswered.

In silence they continued to walk, their footfalls falling against the small blanket of snow lying over the gravel of the sidewalk. A chill was growing in the air, but the heat of her anxiety was enough to keep it at bay. "You told Kathryn ten minutes," she spoke up again after another minute passed.

"We're almost there," he hushed her quickly. Reaching an intersection, he guided her to the left.

Before them lay a park with a small expanse of forest standing at its border.

"There?"

"It'll be more secluded," he explained.

"But there's no one here, David," she argued as he kept walking forward.

"Believe me, she has eyes everywhere."

"Kathryn?" she questioned, highly doubtful that kind and timid woman would have put her neighbours on the task of watching her husband

David shook his head. "Regina.

_No surprises there_, Mary Margaret thought ruefully as she and David finally crossed the threshold of the park, their feet sinking into the thick cover of snow as they trekked towards the small gathering of trees and an area where they could speak freely.

They did not go deep into the undergrowth, just far enough to be out of earshot and view of any 'watchful eyes'. Finally coming to a full halt, David turned to stare at her, his large eyes imploring her to speak with great speed.

"We don't have long," he urged her.

She nodded. "I feel like our time's already run out," she confessed, uncertain why she had said it aloud. _Remember why you're here; remember what you wanted to say. _"I feel like you've gone through all this trouble for nothing," she continued. "I only wanted to say that you have my forgiveness, though you never really needed it. What you did was right. She's your wife, and she's such a kind woman. I can't fault you for that. I should be the one apologizing for fueling your pursuit, and I am sorry. I hope we can leave it behind. I would like to be friends." She did not say that she did not believe they would ever have the chance to fulfill such an accord, nor that she herself would ever try to pursue any time of relationship with him lest she procure Regina's wrath. She would not say as much, but in her heart she knew it to be true. It was enough, for now, to simply make amends. "That's it really."

He was silent for a few seconds, his eyes pensively watching her, his expression one of deep contemplation. The sound of a breaking twig echoed to her right.

She threw her gaze in the direction only to see a dark shape disappear into the brush. It did not look human, a fact that caused her greater anxiety. "We should…"

"Not yet." Looking back at him, she realized his gaze had not wavered. "There's something else I have to say." His voice was low, seeping with something akin to regret. "I do love my wife, but I still can't get you out of my mind."

Her breath caught in her throat. He was not supposed to have said this. He was supposed to have stayed quiet, to leave her statement as the last, to accept it as the end of this discussion. Why was he insistent on pursuing it?

"David, we can't." Her voice was pleading. Standing in the seclusion of the trees with him, she could hardly manage the beating of her heart and the racing emotions afflicting her very soul. "Please."

He would not, however, back down. His hand reached for her cheek, but she retreated back. "No!" she cried. "No," she repeated, her tone softer.

Again he came to her, and this time she could not resist. The feeling of his hand pressed against her cheek bade her heart beat faster. His skin seemed to melt into hers, as if it belonged, as if it was made to be there.

She watched as his face descended, wanting her like she wanted him. All thoughts fled her. In the quiet of the forest, it was just her and David, and in that moment it was all that mattered.

His lips were nearly upon hers, the distance between them nothing, yet the bridge seemed further than ever.

_Crack._

She jumped back, startled. Her gaze flew to the left. This time she was certain the figure disappearing into the undergrowth was that of a large dog, or a wolf.

Her gaze flew back to David. He seemed stunned too, his mouth gaping.

It was a sign, surely it was a sign from some God, warning her that she'd done her part and to do anything else would be a breech on propriety. What cared she for propriety when…

_And Kathryn?_

_But…David…_

_She doesn't deserve it._

_And what do I deserve?_

Her last question went unanswered, her brain refusing to counter her heart this time, perhaps because it expected she already knew the reply it would give.

"I'm sorry," David uttered suddenly. "I shouldn't have…I do love you, Mary Margaret," he swore resolutely.

"But Kathryn," she continued knowingly, glad that he had taken charge. "It's okay. I'm glad…" She looked back into the thicket of trees, but there was no sign of life. "You should be getting back."

He nodded, smiling contritely.

She returned his gesture, her own grin one of sheepishness as she turned to leave.

He held her back, his hand grabbing her arm. "If you need anything…"

"You'll find me," she chimed, feeling suddenly as if these were words she'd spoken before.

"Always," he swore, his own expression showing that he too felt as though they'd somehow already lived this moment. Pushing aside any doubt, he leaned forward then, his lips falling gently upon her cheek.

For a second, just a second, she stood there, paralyzed, the spot where his lips had touched her flesh seeming to burn. She stumbled back a few steps, and then she was running, running as fast as her legs could carry her, tears welling in her eyes as images of a world she did not know flashed before her eyes, like visions once dreamt, or perhaps, moments once lived.

1 2 D A Y S O F S N O W F A L L

It was nearly dawn when Snow awoke. Her mind still fuzzy with the dream she'd only just lived, it took her a few minutes of pensive silence to remember its contents. The images that flashed through her mind filled her with a soft warmth. She held to them tightly, wishing for a moment they were real, and not figments of her mind teasing her with emotional cruelty. If only her father was still alive. If only the queen had never entered their lives. If only Charming had never crossed her path.

The soft neighing of a horse reached her ears, echoing through the silence of the breaking morn. It provoked fear in her first. They had no horses…but they did have a prince…well, quasi-prince…well.

She sat up tall in bed, the covers rolling off her body, unable to shield her from the cold. She reached for the cloak lying across the edge and draped it over her shoulders as she hurried to the sole window. Glancing out she could see him, his figure hardly a shadow in the semi-darkness. He was leaving.

In a sudden panic, she raced out of her room and down the steps, taking minimal caution. She did not want the seven to wake now.

It was cold beyond the safety of their house, but she did not let it hinder her as she fled into the field.

He was already a few feet away.

"Charming!"

He pulled up short on the reins, forcing his sheet to a halt. Turning he stared at her, standing in nought but a thin gown and a long sweeping cloak that could not grant her any real warmth.

Guiding the horse back, he jumped down, his feet falling hard against the frozen grass. "Are you mad?" he chided her, reaching for something in his satchel and pulling out a blanket of a navy blue colour only seconds later. "Take this."

He draped it gently over her shoulders. "Go back inside before you catch your death."

"It's not that bad," she argued, though inside she was trembling. She wouldn't let him see that. "We're you really expecting to just leave without saying goodbye?"

He hesitated to provide a response, his gaze falling momentarily to the house behind. "I thought it might be better…easier."

She bit her lips. Perhaps it would have been. "Nothing is ever easy," she replied, thinking back on her past with a heart suddenly heavy with regret.

"I guess," he murmured.

For a few minutes, they stood in unadulterated silence, neither certain what to say next. There was so much she wanted to say, so much she should have said, but she could not think of it in that instant. In the end, Charming spoke first.

"I suppose we should say goodbye now."

"I suppose," she agreed half-heartedly, her voice rife with uncertainty. She held out her hand. "Goodbye," she said shortly.

He stared at her hand, contemplating for a second, before grasping it in his own. "Goodbye, Snow White."

For a few seconds, he held to her hand, his eyes boring into hers, and then he pulled her forward, ever so gently, and laid a tender kiss on her cheek.

"I'll honour our agreement," he promised, releasing her then.

Her heart fluttered anxiously, her words caught in her throat. She could not speak, could hardly breathe.

"You'll never see me again." His voice was thick with remorse as he spoke those words and clambered back onto the white steed.

"I wish things were different," she called to him as he began to move away, finally able to find the words.

"So, do I," he replied gently, and then prompted his horse into a gallop, allowing it to take him far away from this place and from the woman he'd grown to love…forever.

She watched him until he disappeared into the trees, her entire body feeling leaden. The cold seemed sharper now, pushing through her bones with fierce vengeance. And then, it began to snow.

1 2 D A Y S O F S N O W F A L L

Emma and Mary Margaret reached their apartment at the same time, both women's faces red from cold and tears. They stared at each other as they came face to face, both taking pain in knowing that the other was suffering too. So much for second chances. So much for renewed life.

"David?" Emma questioned gently.

"Tried to kiss me," Mary Margaret replied emptily. "Regina?"

"Hates my guts and wants me dead," Emma returned, her voice just as devoid as emotion.

"So everything is as it should be," Mary Margaret reasoned.

"Seems like."

Together they marched up the frozen steps, careful not to slip on the piece of ice that had gathered in the middle of the second step.

Mary Margaret pulled out her key, unlocking the door. It required a bit more teasing than usual, frozen as it was with the sudden fallen chill.

Up the steps they went to the apartment above. As they went, the sound of joyful Christmas tunes reached their ears.

"Seriously?" Mary Margaret muttered, unimpressed. "I've had enough of Christmas."

"Amen, sister," Emma concurred as they reached their door, only then realizing that the music was coming from inside.

"Did you?" Mary Margaret questioned wonderingly.

Emma shook her head. "Not you?"

Gesturing in the negative, Mary Margaret tentatively turned the handle, surprised to find it unlocked. Behind her Emma had drawn her gun, holding it carefully in her hand, prepared to defend the small space they owned.

In Mary Margaret's mind she pictured a tall, dark thief hoping to see priceless valuables. In Emma's mind, it was the mayor, waiting to claim revenge. Neither, it turned out, was right.

Pushing it with a loud cry, the two women came to a jolting halt. Their apartment had been transformed from a desolate place of sorrows to a land of Christmas wonder.

Their Christmas tree stood tall, decorated with lights of red and white and dangling ornaments. The rest of the few rooms were covered with strings of ivy and light.

"Who?"

"I was wondering when you guys would get here!"

Emma and Mary Margaret looked quickly to their left where a small boy stood, a wide grin splashed across his face.

"Henry? What have you done?" Mary Margaret spoke out first while Emma struggled to find her voice, too shocked to speak.

He shrugged, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet. "I know it's been a hard month. I wanted to make sure you had a great Christmas. Everyone deserves to be happy at Christmas. Especially you." His eyes flew between his mother and, as he saw it, grandmother, looking determined in his decision. "I know I can't spend Christmas with you, so I was hoping we could do our own today."

Without waiting for an argument or, possibly, consensus, he ran off into the kitchen. "I brought some turkey sandwiches and a cake and gravy and mashed potatoes. It's not perfect but…"

"It is perfect," Emma interjected.

Henry stepped back out, his eyes glowing hopefully. "You think so?"

Emma glanced quickly at Mary Margaret. "Of course it is," she repeated firmly. Walking to Henry's side, she knelt down before him and pulled him into a hearty hug. Placing a kiss on his cheek, her own heart felt glad and willing to push aside the sorrows for this one day, for Henry. "Thank you."

Mary Margaret watched the two from a distance, unable to keep the tears from her eyes as she watched their embrace. She had not realized so much until that moment just how much she wanted a child, and a longing was beginning to build dangerously in her heart.

She wiped it away anxiously, forcing it aside. _Not now, Mary Margaret. Not now._

Her pocket buzzed suddenly. Glad to have her attention diverted, she pulled her phone from her pocket and glanced at the message that had been sent to her.

It was from David. She hesitated knowing this. How had he gotten her number? And what was he doing texting her? She looked back to Emma, but she was too focused on Henry to pay her any heed.

Looking back to her phone, she tentatively opened the message, uncertain that she wanted to read what was there.

_Hello. Emma gave me your number. I hope it's okay. _

_Oh, Emma_, she thought before continuing.

_I just wanted to remind you that if you ever need me, I'm right here. I don't want us to fall apart. I mean it. I want us to be friends. At least friends. Please. I'm here for you. Always._

She paused, holding the phone in her hand with sudden ferocity, strengthening her hold on it. Her mind and heart were racing again, at first resistant and then slowly falling to acceptance and enthusiasm. She quickly typed in a reply and pressed send before returning her focus to the mother and son.

"Let's warm up those sandwiches then, Henry," she suggested happily, moving into the kitchen.

Emma and Henry came to stand by here as she worked at the oven.

"You look happy," Henry stated, obviously pleased.

"Yes, Henry. I am," she replied. She could see Emma watching her curiously, but she said nothing, pressing her hand over her pocket as it buzzed again.

While the other two set the table, she pulled it from her pocket. The reply was short, but it was all she needed.

_Yes._

She glanced out the window, watching the snow dance around, a frown claiming her lips as a heavy sigh escaped to the world.

_And so it begins._

* * *

><p><strong>A.N. Well? What do you think? Was it okay? I hope so. There were so many things to tie up, but as always, finishing one story line usually leads to the creation of another. So here's the truth. This isn't the end. Nope. I have one last surprise left, and it should show itself sooner rather than later. This I do promise. <strong>

**So let me know what you thought in a review. They're always so wonderful and supportive and I love hearing your thoughts. **

**I'll see you soon.**

**Love,**

**Faith Rivens xoxo**


	6. Epilogue

**A.N. This is really the end to this fic. It's just a little something, but I figured I should add it at least considering one of the upcoming episodes. Enjoy **

Epilogue:

Charming stood stoic at the altar, trying his best to keep his emotions at bay, and his emotions unreadable. For the past three days, she had invaded his mind, captivating it in its entirety, refusing to release him. Every time his eyes had closed, her face had risen, calling to him. Even closing his eyes now, he could see her perfectly, as if she was there before him and not miles away, gone from him forever.

He could not think about her now, though; not now when he was bound to be united with another forever in matrimony. But he could not stop her, could not stop himself from breathing her name, living her soul.

_Don't do this, _he told himself severely. _Think of your mother, think of the country._

_Think of everyone but yourself._

His heart was not so pleased with the attempts of his mind to rationalize his thoughts. But he could not stop what was already placed in motion.

As music began to swell around him, the pace of his heart began to race with anxiety. There would be no stopping now, would be no chance for him to avoid this all if the words _I do_ left his lips. And he would not stop. Not for anyone. Not for her. Not for love.

Turning to face the approaching bride, he forced a smile to his face. She did look beautiful, dressed in white, though it only showed off the paleness of her skin.

Walking hand on glove with her father, she seemed to radiate, though he knew all too well that she held no real love for him either.

As she came up alongside him, he took her from her father, guiding her up the steps to where the priest waited expectantly.

The music stopped, and as he glanced behind her, his world seemed to stop to.

The priest was speaking, but the words were a muddle of incoherent syllables, unable to be understood as life ceased to exist without him.

She was there, standing in the shadows. He could see her face, and he knew it to be no mirage, no hallucination of his lovesick mind.

Their eyes were bound to each other, their gazes firm and resolved. Why was she there? Why had she come?

Abigail took his hand suddenly and he was pulled from her, forced to look at the woman before him.

"I, Abigail Morivar take thee…"

His head was spinning. _Snow White. Snow White._ Her name was drumming in his head with loud persistence. It would not stop. There was nothing else. Just her. Just that.

"And you, Prince James?"

He heard it, but did not look. His name was James, or was it Charming? He looked for her again, but she was gone now, no longer hidden in the shadows, no longer watching him.

"Prince James?"

Still he did not hear, a new sorrow inflicting his heart. Had he really just imagined her, had he really only hoped that he could see her one last time before his entire world was stolen from him? He did not know, nor did he really care to know. She was not there.

"James?"

He was sharply yanked back to the present as Abigail tugged roughly on his jacket, awakening him to the reality of the day.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, looking at the priest and then quickly to where his 'father' sat looking riffled and thoroughly unhappy. "Go ahead," he told the priest slowly, not really meaning it.

The priest nodded, and began again to speak the vow, but before even a syllable could pass his lips another voice shot out through the silence of the room.

"I object!"

**A.N. So this really is the end to this fic. I hope you've all enjoyed reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Thank you for all the support, the reviews, the favourites, the alerts. They've all meant so much to me and have kept me inspired this long run. **

**Now, I do hope to write a sequel, but I can't make any real promises because back at school means no time to write extensively and as many of you know, there are still many fanfics I need to finish writing. But I think I can safely promise that in the future there will be something else.**

**But for now, this is it. Thank you all once more. **

**Love always, Faith **


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